


Not A Mortal Wound

by KillTheDirector



Series: Alternative Universe - Gender Changes [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M, Female Will Graham, Wendigo Hannibal, Will Graham is never okay in any universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-06 22:39:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4239291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KillTheDirector/pseuds/KillTheDirector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The forest is black as pitch, and the feeling of eyes tracing every curve of her body has Will shivering despite the summer heat. The reassuring weight of her father's hunting knife, along with her pack of dogs, calms her some what, but the sounds of insects stops suddenly and the air feels much heavier than before. </p><p>"They say she's actually married to the monster of the woods."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Once upon a time, on the edge of a great forest, there lived a woman known only as 'The Witch'. 

Abigail, having just turned eight, never really believed in the stories (or so she told her friends when they mocked her for being too afraid to venture near the edge of the wood). Of course anyone in the small village heard the stories, and most adults would bring their children inside once the sun began to set. Even though she claimed not to believe any of the stories, it didn't mean that Abigail hadn't seen the witch from time to time. 

The woman was thin in a way that spoke of meager food and she had the willowy limbs of someone who wandered much too often. Her eyes were large, lined by dark lashes and deep purple bags indicating sleepless nights; Abigail thought (secretly of course, because the people of the village would always throw wary and thinly hidden hostile glares toward her), that the witch looked very lonely. 

"They say that she's actually married to the monster in the forest." Abigail looked up from the black board she was practicing her writing on, over to the two girls who were whispering rather loudly. They were situated around the small bubbling fountain that was positioned in the middle of the village, and could clearly see the wisp of a woman gliding between booths in the market; she was holding a basket that looked as if it contained fat fish, trying desperately to sell them to anyone who would look her way. 

One of the girls snorted and glanced toward the witch, her lip curling in inherited distaste. The witch was speaking lowly with a heavy set man with dark skin, her mouth pulled down in a frown. "Those are just fairy tales meant to scare babies. My mom says she's just _crazy_." Abigail chanced a glance at the witch, and startled when their gazes locked for a brief second. 

The woman's eyes were an eerie electric blue, and seemed to stare deeply into her soul. She felt the back of her neck break out into a sweat, and her heart begin to pound aggressively against her breast bone because the witch really was magic and she was _going to see what daddy really did when he says he's out_ hunting _oh god he's going to be so MAD--_. The woman looked away, a deep frown tugging down the corner of her mouth as she shambled away from the market, her basket of fish still full.

Days later, Abigail skipped her class, telling her father that she had an upset stomach. Thankfully the hunter believed her, and allowed Abigail to stay by herself in their little cabin. The man left with a quick kiss to the top of her head, and told her not to get into any trouble.

Abigail waited until the sound of her father's horse's hoovebeats were gone and immediately hopped out of bed. She dragged the little pack of food and water from under her bed, the pack heavy on her shoulders as she ventured out.

Many people didn't go into the woods for fear of the beasts wandering through the trees. The worst monster, or at least according to the stories, was the king of the forest.

The monster was said to be as tall as the trees with antlers as large as any great buck her father brought home. His skin was dark as pitch, and worst of all was that he feasted on the flesh of those who wandered unknowingly into his domain.

Abigail swallowed thickly and quickened her pace. The image of the witch's too knowing gaze burned in the girl's mind, and by the time she was on the very edge of the wood, the forest king's domain and (if the stories and rumors were to be believed) the witch's domain as well, her heart was pounding with fear and worry. 

Abigail studied the line of trees, noting the many colors of autumn and the scent of decaying leaves. The forest didn't look as scary as it did at night, Abigail thought; her mind was going hazy at the corners, and she found that the forest looked greatly inviting. Her foot strayed off the well worn dirt path, heading in the direction of the woods. A loose lipped smile worked over the girl's mouth and a little giggle tumbled from her lips.

The loud howling of dogs cut through the hazy thoughts like a knife, and when Abigail blinked, the forest seemed to be reaching towards her with spindly, greedy fingers.

A pack of seven dogs, all varying in size and shape, suddenly began to circle the girl. One of them moved in front of her and the forest, showing its teeth as she backed away with a cry. A sharp whistle sounded out from behind her, and all the dogs stood a attention; their tails wagged lazily, but they all eyed her with gazes far too wary to belong to animals.

"What are you doing here?" Abigail flinched at the harsh voice, and felt her heart begin to thud loudly in her chest. The girl turned and briefly met the witch's eyes before the woman's gaze flitted somewhere else.

The witch snapped her fingers and all the dogs moved away from Abigail to stand beside their master. Abigail fully turned and breathed out a quiet thank you. The woman sneered slightly and crossed her thin arms over her chest. "Don't thank me, thank the dogs. Without them catching your scent, you would've been lost to the wood."

Abigail lowered her gaze to the pack of dogs that sat at the witch's feet. They stared at her with intelligent eyes, their tounges lolling out of their mouths. She looked back up at the witch who was studying her intently; the woman's mouth was pursed in a thin line, but when she saw that Abigail had caught her staring, a strained smile tilted the corners of her mouth crookedly. "You're...the Hobbs girl, aren't you?"

Confusion caused Abigail to only nod in agreement, and the witch hummed quietly to herself. "I see." She turned and clicked her tongue in a command for the dogs to follow. "You didn't come all this way out for nothing. Come on." Abigail strayed for a moment, only realizing that the woman was talking to her when one of the dogs (the one that had bared its teeth at her) nudged her hand with its nose.

"Wait," the girl breathed as she hopped into step with the witch, "How did you know who I am?"

The woman was quiet, and stared ahead. Abigail wondered if she even heard her, and was annoyed that the woman would ignore her question if she did. "Why did you come here?" The witch asked instead, her tone flat.

Abigail swallowed and tried not to remember the woman's intense stare, one that stripped away her flesh and as able to see directly into her soul. ( _We must honor every part of them, Abigail._ ) 

They came upon a small cottage that was positioned directly across from the forest's edge, directly on the great river that cut through the wood like a knife. The pack of dogs yipped and barked playfully as they bounded up to the cottage, and Abigail once again met the eerie blue eyes of the witch. "I-I," Abigail tore her gaze away and blurted the first thing that came to mind. "Are you really married to the forest King?" 

The question was met with a stunned silence before Abigail heard the woman release a long breath that ended in a soft snort of amusement. "...I wasn't expecting that." The witch said quietly. The woman moved away from the girl, her feet crunching over the pebbles that made up the river shore. "Come inside, it's a long story."

Abigail followed the witch inside and was impressed by the amount of things shoved into the small cottage. Impressive heads of deer and even elk graced the walls, their massive antlers painted black and twined with strings of beads and brightly colored glass bottles. A number of paintings were hung on the walls next to the trophies, depicting men and woman dancing through meadows, looking wild and uncaring or even myths of long forgotten gods who devoured their children, mouths stained a deep crimson red and eyes crazed. Heavy fishing nets were strewn over the rafters, looking well used and cared for; a fire was in the dark stone hearth, warming the small space and allowing Abigail to relax. 

The witch set down a plate of cookies that were slightly burnt around the edges, and a pot of something that smelt like tea. Abigail sat down at the little round table that was piled high with papers, books, and a few stray herbs. She eyed the cookies warily, and when the witch sat across from her, the girl received another crooked smile. "Don't worry, I didn't put anyone you know in there."

Abigail frowned and picked up a cookie, a pleased sounding noise coming from her mouth when she bit down and found it was actually good. The girl swallowed and looked up at the witch; the woman was staring it the window, eyes tracing the lines of the trees with a frown tilting down a corner of her dusty rose colored mouth. "Are you married to him?" Abigail's voice was small, and thigh this wasn't the true reason for her making the track to the witch's house, her curiousity was peaked.

The witch's mouth twitched. "It's a long story."

"Then start at the beginning."

At this, the woman laughed. It held no real amusement to it, and was filled with a hollow sort of bitterness. Her eyes closed, and she sighed softly. "Alright..."

_"Once upon a time, on the edge of a great and terrible wood, there lived a poor fisherman and his daughter..."_


	2. Once Upon A Time

Once upon a time, on the edge of a great and terrible wood, there lived a poor fisherman and his daughter.

The fisherman was named Holter and his young daughter was named Wilhelmina; the man's wife had died many years ago on the edge of a winter unlike many of the villagers had seen, leaving only the fisherman and his newly born baby girl to fend for themselves in the ramshackle cabin that sat upon the huge river that wound through the woods like a vein. 

In the years that passed, Holter learnt how to bring many fish to market and he would bring along his bright daughter, much to the delight of the women of the village. They would say that Wilhelmina would grow to be one of the most beautiful women in the village, and secure a suitable husband who would be able to care for both her and her father. Holter always laughed off the women's remarks, but secretly he longed for the day when he wouldn't have to scrape by in order to feed his rapidly growing daughter. 

In the winter of Wilhemina's twelfth year, Holter set out to catch the few straggling fish that he knew hid in the dark mud of the river. "Papa," Wilhelmina scrambled up from their little kitchen table, the few skinny dogs she managed to convince her father to keep trailing after her like ducklings. "What are you doing? It's freezing outside!" Holter looked up from securing his boot and checked to make sure his gear was strapped to his back. He patted his daughter on the head, noting that she was looking more and more like her mother each day; he remembered the passing glances of many of the village boys whenever they would stray into town, and knew she would have no trouble securing a husband. 

"It's the last day before winter sets in, mô shou, I need to make sure our stocks are full." Wilhelmina scrunched her nose up and crossed her arms, her mouth pursing in distaste. 

"It's gonna snow hard tonight, the dogs can tell." She shot a glance out of the window, tracing the dark clouds that were descending over the naked trees. Holter laughed lightly and patted her head again before setting off. 

He called over his shoulder, waving even as the cold of the air bit into his skin. "I'll be back before nightfall, Willy, no need to worry." He pushed away the feeling of unease that swooped his gut low, and instead headed out for the water that was covered in a thin sheet of ice. The dogs were beginning to howl, and again, Holter pushed away the feeling that something was going to happen. 

Hours later, the snow was beginning to pelt down in heavy sheets of white. Holter's small boat was able to previously slice through the ice with ease, but with the temperature dropping, the wooden vessel was having difficulty. He shivered violently, his jaw clenched hard as he eyed the three small fish he had managed to catch in the hours he had been out. The wind was howling, cutting through the trees and grasping at any exposed skin like the claws of an animal. 

He was too far up river and away from anyone who would be able to help. 

The boat came to a frozen standstill; Holter cursed loudly, attempting to break the ice that clung to the edges of his boat with a wooden oar. The air was getting colder, and the sky darker as minutes crept by. He closed his eyes and released a long, steaming breath; Holter could only think of his small cabin, his daughter curled up with their steadily growing collection of dogs. His stomach growled, and he grimaced as he attempted to gauge the thickness of the ice. 

With a shaky leg, Holter slowly crawled out of the boat; a breath of relief left his mouth when the ice held under his weight, but he could feel the minute crackling under his feet. He glanced in every direction, and knew with a swallow of fear, that the only way to avoid drowning would be to go into the woods. 

He hadn't been born in the village on the edge of the forest like his wife had been, but she had supplied him with many warnings to never set foot in the place. _"It's a cursed place."_ She had whispered fearfully, her hand rubbing absentmindedly at the swell of her stomach. _"Those who enter the forest are devoured by the dark king and his subjects._

The ice of the river began to split slowly underfoot as Holter lightly stepped toward the bank; he tightened his fists as each step caused a loud crack to reverberate through the air. With one great leap, Holter felt the ice give beneath his feet. A loud shout worked out of his mouth when he landed on the steady snow, the cold melting into his clothes and sobering him as he turned and saw the gaping maw of the shattered ice. 

His head was buzzing with the combination of being far too cold and adrenaline as he stood from the snow. Flakes were coming down harder, and Holter's heard squeezed when he realized that Wilhelmina was most likely worrying about him; dread washed over him as he thought of her going out to look for him. He stumbled across the line of the trees, and suddenly it felt as if the world became darker and all the sounds of the forest seemed to stop. 

His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, but Holter began to move, ignoring how his legs seem to protest the action. He needed to get home, even if it meant going through the forest. 

Minutes turned to hours, and the night fully settled upon the forest; any exposed skin was numb to the cold, and Holter's eye lids seemed to stick every time he blinked. The woods were eerily quiet; even when he strained he couldn't hear the rustling of any animals on the freshly fallen snow. Every breath puffed in front of his face, obscuring his vision for one brief moment. He stopped when he thought he saw a shape moving among the trees. 

Holter squinted in the quickly fading light, trying to discern the shadow of trees from whatever he had seen. His breath fanned out in front of him as his breathing quickened with fear. "H-hello?" He called uncertainly, shivering in his spot as the light fully faded to darkness. He sucked in a cold breath to call out again when a shape moved fully from behind the tree; a panicked yelp tumbled out of Holter's mouth as eyes the color of lamplight glinted in the darkness. 

He stumbled back, his foot catching on a hidden root; falling into the snow, Holter squeezed his eyes closed as the figure descended upon him. When nothing happened, the man opened his eyes. The figure towered over him, a long fingered hand stretched out in a gesture for him to grab; the lantern-like eyes gazed down at the fisherman, amusement evident in the glowing orbs. When he didn't move to grab the outstretched hand, the eyes narrowed. "If you do not wish to die, I would consider being less rude." The voice held an edge to it, one that Holter decided he didn't wish to cross. 

He grabbed the hand, wincing at the clammy feeling of the figure's skin; it was like touching a corpse, and when he looked at his own hand when the figure pulled away, he could see streaks of steaming blood. A gasp of shock left Holter's mouth before he realized it, and the figure merely looked at him as attempted to wipe away the blood. "What are you doing in my wood?" The figure asked, cocking its head to the side like one of Wilhelmina's dogs. Holter noted hazily the large antlers that protruded out of the figure's head, and he squinted in the dark to see if he could make out any other discernible features. 

"I'm...lost." He murmured, crossing his arms tightly over his chest in order to try and contain any heat. The sound of breathing sounded out from behind Holter's ear, and he turned with another gasp and came eye to eye with a great stag. The figure seemed to float toward the beast and laid its hand upon the stag's back almost fondly; it pet the stag for a moment before eyeing the man with interest. 

"You have trespassed." This was stated with out any inflection, yet Holter felt the annoyance like a physical blow. The figure stopped its petting of the stag and seemed to grow taller, imposing like the gnarled trees that swayed with every blow of the winter wind. "Tell me why I shouldn't just kill you and feast on your flesh?" 

Holter swallowed thickly, his saliva seeming to freeze in his mouth as the figure stepped closer. His heart pounded loudly against his breast bone, and he whimpered quietly; he could only think of Wilhelmina traveling into the wood and facing this monster, could almost see her crimson blood splashed over the white of the snow and her body thrown like a broken doll. "P-please," He whispered as the figure lifted a hand, its clammy fingers coming to curl around his throat. "I have a child who needs me." 

A light of interest passed over the monster's lantern eyes, and its hand paused only millimeters above Holter's throat. "...A child?" It murmured, confusion clouding its tone. 

Holter felt a glimmer of hope bubble under his heart, but he stifled it. "Y-yes, a daughter only twelve years old. She needs me, please...please don't kill me." 

Clammy fingers curled away from Holter's throat, the pads of them skimming his skin in warning as the figure took its hand away. The man felt a rush of air leave his lungs, and he looked up at the monster in hope. It laughed humorlessly and set its hand upon the stag's huge back. "You will die before the night is through. These woods yield to none other than myself." Its eyes flared for a moment before settling back down again. "How will you get home to your...child?" 

The question was odd, but Holter chewed on the inside of his cheek in thought. He shivered at the heavy stares of the monster and beast, and realized that as he walked through the woods, he had become far too lost in order to find the river again. He felt his hope wither. "I don't know." He admitted softly, staring down at his hands; the blood had become frozen in patches over his skin. 

The monster hummed lowly and seemed to assess the man. "If I were to help you get back to your child, what would you do for me?" 

Holter looked up from his hands, eyes wide. "Anything." He breathed, steam rising from his lips; briefly he noted that the monster hadn't left a cloud to indicate it had been breathing at all. 

The clouds that hung overhead all day began to dissipate, revealing the moon that hung large and full. Light began to pour through the gnarled limbs of the trees, and Holter swallowed the scream that began to bubble in his throat upon seeing the figure.

Skin as black as pitch, and a face that seemed to be cut from stone with hallowed cheeks that spoke of constant starvation; blood coated the monster's arms with bits of skin and hair still stuck to the corners of its mouth. Antlers that were like razors twisted up into the air, larger than the dark stag's that still stared at the man with far more wisdom than any normal beast held. The monster's thin lips curled into a grin, revealing teeth that looked like thousands of needles, stained crimson with its last meal. Its eyes shone bright, reflecting the moonlight like a cat's. "Excellent."


	3. La Petite Chaperon Rouge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four years later...

Once upon a time on the edge of a vast wood, there lived a young woman with a terrible gift. 

Will opened her eyes, wincing at the light pouring out from behind the flimsy curtain that attempted to block out the sun. She grumbled softly, stretching out her legs only for them to be blocked by a fuzzy body at the end of the bed; she huffed out a laugh and sat up, making sure to move the small dog propping its head on her chest. If she listened closely, Will could hear her father moving about their small cabin, muttering curses to himself as something fell. 

Winston looked up at her from his position at the foot of the bed, tilting his head before hopping off the bed in order to investigate the noise. Will yawned and then followed, Sadie and Penelope close behind; peaking out from behind the door, Will watched her father as he attempted to cook breakfast. Winston danced just behind the man, making sure to lick up any scraps of stray food that always managed to 'fall'; shoving past the colorful bottles that were filled with river water (her father said that it kept any bad spirits away, and in the privacy of her mind, Will wondered when he became so superstitious), Will scooted back one of the heavy kitchen chairs. 

Her father jumped at the noise, but he turned and offered her a kind smile when he deposited a few slightly burnt eggs and sausages onto a plate in front of her. Will glanced at the empty plate in front of him, her lips twitching downwards in a frown; when she opened her mouth to question him, but her father turned away in order to gather his fishing gear. "I'll be home tomorrow morning, bé; make sure you don't go wanderin' out past sundown." Will closed her mouth with an audible click, watching as her father gathered up enough things to last him the night. 

It was the same way every month, though as the years passed and Will grew older, her father seemed to grow more and more agitated. She wondered why he always stayed out all night on the days of the full moon, and (in some dark corner of her mind that she never liked prodding) she wondered if it had something to do with the bodies that were found the day after. They were artfully arranged, at least that's what the people of the village whispered.

 _It was the forest king! Watch out or he'll catch and eat you too!_

Once, when the killings first began, Will remembered meeting her father's gaze. She was only thirteen, but suddenly she knew the guilt and anguish her father was shouldering; she could see the throat of someone ( _"And even now, I don't know who they were."_ ) being slashed, their poppy colored blood looking black in the moonlight. She could feel their guts squishing between her fingers, and a low voice whispering for her to taste...

Will had vomited and cried uncontrollably as her father tried to calm her; only when she asked, in a hollow voice, if he was killing them did her father pull away. 

Will always knew that she was different, that she could _see_ things differently than anyone she ever met. Before, when her father would take her into town, she would remember sprouting off bits of peoples' lives, things that they never wanted revealed; she remembered the children beginning to pull away from her, and their parents' questioning and suspicious gazes whenever she and her father came into town. 

Will released a long sigh and placed the plate of food onto the ground, suddenly not very hungry.

She felt restless, something that had been happening lately and caused her to wander. Her wanderings normally led to she and her father arguing as he went over the dangers of a young woman out by herself, and most importantly the dangers of the forest.

Will watched the dogs gobble up her food as a thought whispered through her mind. Her father wasn't here, nor would he be back before tomorrow morning.

Quickly, Will began to gather the things needed for a trip into town. A basket full of small blankets she has planned to sell during their next visit to market, food for later along with some water, and a traveling cloak. The bright red reflected amongst the dark green of the trees, something her father said hunters would know not to shoot at.

Will secured the cloak around her neck and tugged up the hood for good measure. She glanced at the dogs, who all were staring at her with varying looks of disappointment; she made a face and walked to the door, "Don't look at me like that," she pulled the heavy wooden door open, and a strong breeze of sun warmed air kissed her cheeks. "I'll be back before nightfall. See? I won't be in any danger."

Will ignored a whine from one of the dogs, and stepped out of the cottage, her heart thrumming with excitement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise Little Red Riding hood references, however it won't be the only fairytale referenced in this fic.


	4. Bzou

Once upon a time, in the middle of a cursed forest, there was a horrendous beast who feasted upon the flesh of any innocent travelers who ventured too far into the trees. 

Will tightened her hands around the basket of blankets and kept her eyes straight ahead. She knew all the stories (possibly more due to her father's late night ramblings when he thought she was asleep). _Keep to the path and don't look at the trees._ Many people said that if you even glanced at the forest surrounding the pathway, you would be enchanted and then drawn into the grasping fingers of the dark wood, never to be seen from again.

Will swallowed thickly and quickened her pace, wishing that she had brought at least _one_ of her dogs in order to have something to keep her attention from the trees. 

Noon was breaking high over head; the heat caused a fine sweat to break over Will's brow, and she wrenched the hood away from her head to allow even the slightest breeze to cool her. She had been walking (nearly running) for the last hour, and knew that the village was another hour's walk. With a sigh, Will decided to sit and rest for a moment, closing her eyes as she laid upon the plush grass that ran only a little distance from the wood. _As long as I don't look at it,_ Will thought, staring up at the pale blue sky, _I won't be tempted to go in._

As she dozed, Will was pulled out of her light slumber the the soft tinkling of bells and hoof beats. She sat up, looking up and down the road until she realized that the sound was coming from the woods behind her. She stood and turned, shocked to see a finely made wooden cart pulled by an enormous horse that was as dark as midnight; a man sat at the driver's seat, adorned in clothing that looked to be too fine for traveling clothes. Will hopped out of the way when the cart moved passed her, her squawk of indignation catching in her throat when the man stopped.

"I apologize," The man said as he climbed down from his perch. He was taller than Will thought, fair-haired and skinned and looking as if his face was carved from marble. He bowed low, his fine clothes making him look a if he were a king bowing to a peasant. "I didn't realize that someone was there." He looked up from his bent position, and Will was struck by the odd maroon shade of his eyes.

She was also awed at the lack of information that would normally pour unbidden into her head when meeting someone's gaze.

Unsticking her tongue from the roof of her mouth, Will looked down at the ground and absentmindedly smoothed out the fabric of her cloak. "It's fine," she murmured, feeling the man's eyes tracing her face almost as if it were a physical touch. "I was the one laying in the way."

Will chanced a look at the stranger and found that he had straightened to his full height; a small smile was laid over his mouth and he held out a hand. Will hesitated for a moment and then curled her fingers around his, stifling a gasp when he raised her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss over her knuckles. "The fault is still mine," He smiled lightly and released her hand. "My name is Hannibal Lecter, may I ask what yours is?"

Will brought the hand he had held close to her chest, her heart thrumming as if she were a rabbit ensnared in the jaws of a wolf. Her father always told her never to talk to strangers, especially if she was alone...but, the man--Hannibal Lecter--seemed kind, if not a little odd. "Will, um, Wilhelmina, but I go by Will for short." She looked down at her hands that were twisting the handle of the basket in nervousness. "Why were you in the woods?" She winced at her rather rude question, and quickly apologized, her cheeks stained red with embarrassment.

Hannibal, thankfully, laughed softly and waved her apology away with a dismissive hand. "I was collecting herbs and roots." At Will's curious expression, he elaborated. "I am a doctor, and was planning on selling my medicines in the next village." He passed a quick glance towards Will's basket, and hummed thoughtfully. "I'm guessing that you're also headed that way?"

Will bit the inside of her cheek; her gut instinct told her not to give this man any more information than she already had. He was nice, but he was still a stranger and someone who traveled into the forest without a care in the world. "I am," she found herself saying, and instantly regretted her words.

Hannibal smiled kindly, though the dread that swept through Will's gut caused her to pause. He inclined his head and almost at once, the fear rising in Will's chest ebbed. "If you would like, I would be more than happy to give you a ride the rest of the way?" He clasped his hands behind his back and offered her a slightly worried look. "After all, it isn't safe for a young woman to be wandering the roads by herself."

The concern lthat swirled in the man's strange maroon eyes had Will's heart clenching even though in the back of her mind, she was screaming to get away. _There isn't anything natural about someone whom I can't read!_ Will's subconscious whispered, but she gave him a shy smile in return. "Thank you," her mouth seemed to move on it's own, the words tumbling out unbidden. "It would've taken me a lot longer to get there and back home if you hadn't come."

Hannibal helped her onto the bench that sat upon the wooden carriage, his hand steadying Will as they began to move. "I'm glad to help." He hummed, fingers lingering over the blood red cloak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After three chapters, Hannibal actually interacts with Will.


	5. Bluebeard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School recently started up again, so updates will be slow in coming. I put the underage warning tag up because even though Will is seventeen, some people may not be cool with that. Also, switch of POV to Hannibal; let's hope this turns out well.

Once upon a time, longer than anyone could remember, there was a hideous beast who called himself a king. 

He never realized how...attached some humans could be to their offspring. 

For eons, he had ruled over the dark forest, bringing terror to all those who lived on its edges, and only a handful of times did he remember a human who would give up their life for the sake of their children's. 

He remembered winter trailing cold fingers over his perpetually chilled skin the night he had met Holter Graham. The moon was full but covered by clouds, giving him the shade needed to stalk his unfortunate prey. 

But then the human had spouted off pleas and promises, something which the dark king found...interesting. 

The Stag had not been happy with its master, and pawed at the ground in agitation as the human had been led from the forest. He rested a gnarled hand placatingly over the razor sharp feathers and told his pet to be patient. 

When Holter Graham stumbled out of the line of trees, a nearly unholy howl ripped through the dark air. Several dogs trotted to the human, whining and barking; a young human girl burst from the little cabin, her legs sinking into the snow nearly up to her knees, but it seemed that she didn't care. 

_So this is the child he gave his life for._ The forest king thought dully, annoyance washing heavily upon him; the girl didn't seem any sort of interesting, and so he had let a perfectly good meal escape. 

His annoyance flared until the girl looked up from tugging her father into the warmth of the cabin, and looked directly into the king's eyes.

The blue of her gaze felt like an electric shock had gone through his spine; The Stag snorted lowly, breath fanning in front of its face before it nosed his hand. The dark king blinked, and the girl was leading her father into the warmth of the cabin, almost as if she didn't know the effect her gaze alone had. 

He resolved then that his prize for helping the poor fisherman out of the forest would be for the man to give his daughter to the king. An ink black tongue swept over his thin lips, and he smiled serenely to himself; whether the girl would become his bride or his next meal would be determined as she grew.

A month passed and the fisherman met the king under the silver light of the full moon, as per their agreement. The king was pleased that Holter Graham was a man of his word, and when he told the man what he would be doing for him (tracking and later displaying the king's prey after he had killed them), the man paled but nodded. "And if I provide for you, will you do the same for my daughter and I?"

The king inwardly sighed but snapped his bony fingers, calling forth fat fish from the depths of the river. Holter Graham let out a whoosh of breath, and seemed much more relaxed than he did a few moments before. "I have an addition to our bargain." The man looked up at the king (hesitantly, because humans were quick to fear his true visage), his mouth pursed in confusion. The king smiled placatingly, spreading his hands in a gesture of goodwill. "No harm will come to your daughter, or yourself, so long as you are in the shadow of my forest." The woods were vast, and not even he knew how far his kingdom reached. Holter Graham's eyes widened; he knew the dangers that could befall a young girl like his daughter, and the gesture was a kind one from the king, but...

He narrowed his eyes, "What else do you want me to do?" The king allowed his smile to turn sharp, and watched in delight as the human flinched minutely.

"When I have deemed it time, you will give me your daughter."

"No!" The response was quick, and loud as a gunshot. The trees moaned with the king's annoyance, and he allowed the shadows to creep in around them. The man cowered slightly before trying to stand straight. "Do what you want with me, but leave her out of this!"

The king hissed lowly, and paced a slow circle around the foolish human. He saw the man's shoulders drooping as he subconsciously tried to guard himself from an unseen attack. "The girl has everything to do with this foolish bargain you have made, Holter Graham." The leaves whispered threats into the man's ears, promising his bloody demise if he didn't meet the king's demands. "If you do not give her to me, I will take her by force and have you eat her entrails. Do not test me, better and more fierce men than you have attempted to before and have failed."

Snow whipped around them, the cold dug its claws into the human's flesh. The king knew it reminded him of their deal, and of how hopelessly lost he had become. He lowered his voice to a soothing purr, warmth of a hearth fire coloring every word; the human began to sway on the spot. "Give her to me, and I will provide you both with riches the likes you've never seen before."

Holter Graham could nearly see the warm fire of his cabin, and hear his daughter's laughter along with the yipping of their dogs. The king watched in satisfaction as his words tore down the last of the human's defenses. "Y...es." The man said sluggishly, mind in a trance but words binding. "Yes."

The years passed quickly, and the king watched as the fisherman's daughter began to blossom into a beautiful woman. The summers had her out playing in the river, the skirts of her worn dress tied up high enough that the king could nearly see her milky white thighs. Her laughter was like bells, and he found his hands itching to touch her and trace the lines of her smile.

He experimented with new shapes and often ventured into the little village nestled in the valley surrounded by his forest. He watched as his bride (because he decided that though she would make the most wonderful meal, his body yearned for something more), would attempt to interact with others around her. They were able to sense her oddness, and often they would avoid her; soon she began to close herself away, hiding her intellect under a veil of strangeness.

When he heard a few of the villagers whispering that she was a witch, he nearly laughed in their faces.

Holter Graham grew more sullen over the years, and no longer gaped in awe when the king would allow the fish to swim into his net. He felt that perhaps he should have been offended, or at the least annoyed, but the king found that he didn't care.

"When will you take her?" The man demanded, his hands sticky with blood and the corners of his mouth smeared with viscera. He looked angry and lost, his wide grey eyes rimmed with tears.

The king rolled an eyeball over his tongue, before crushing it in his needle-like teeth. He stared up at the sky, streaked with stars and so vast that even he felt dwarfed. "Soon." He decided, loneliness gripping a place that he felt his heart would have been if he were human. The man's answering sob, full of grief and guilt did not sway him in the least.

He chose the name Hannibal Lecter due to some half remembered conversation long ago. The skin was easy to mold, and when he looked into the crystal clear surface of a fairy pool, he smiled at the result. The trees whispered about the girl, bending easily to his whim of becoming a large carriage; The Stag was less than pleased of morphing into a common horse, but he knew the beast was interested in meeting its queen.

The girl--Wilhelmina--was crass and awkward in a way that spoke of how little interaction she really had with other people. Hannibal studied her from the corner of his eye, allowing The Stag to pull them toward the village. She chewed absentmindedly on the corner of her mouth, her pink tongue soothing the roughened skin.

"Do you often go to the village?" He asked quietly, causing her to jump slightly. She blushed prettily, but frowed deeply at her reaction and twisted her fingers through the red of her cloak.

"Not...often. My father normally goes with me." She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, her dark brows furrowing for a moment. "I've never seen you around here before."

Hannibal hummed, "I have not been this way in a long time." He squinted up at the sky, determining that it was almost two in the afternoon, allowing him some time before he had to meet the fisherman turned hunter of men in the woods; a slow smile curled the corners of his lips before a soft cough pulled him from his thoughts. Hannibal looked over at his bride, who was staring at her hands that tightly held the handle of her basket.

"I'm sorry if this seems...rude," she spoke slowly, mouth twisting at the corners and brows furrowed in confusion, or concentration. It seemed as if Wilhelmina's subconscious was working through the charm Hannibal had placed upon her in order for her to be more compliant. He wanted to hum in pleasure at the girl's resilience, and watched her fingers twist around the wicker. "If you've been to this village before, surely you know the stories of the Forest King?"

The Stag's ears flickered back briefly, and an unhappy snort left the beast, but Hannibal merely waved away the girl's question with a dismissive hand. "Those are only stories told in order to scare children into compliance." Wilhelmina's eerie blue eyes settled upon the king unwavering, and Hannibal felt heat travel through his icy heart. "In all my travels, I have never encountered this so-called 'King'." 

Wilhelmina frowned again, her lids fluttering as Hannibal strengthened the charm. Her face smoothed from the intense concentration from before into a more relaxed expression. "The king doesn't leave his forest." She huffed lightly, "That's why everyone is warned to never venture in the woods." Her eyelids were drooping, and her fingers relaxed from the vice like grip she had on her basket. Any moment, and she would be asleep.

Hannibal's mouth curled up at the edges, watching the young woman fall into a deep slumber. The charm worked perfectly, even after Wilhelmina nearly managed to break it; he began to hum lowly, the sound seeming to echo through out every inch of the forest.


	6. The Robber Bridegroom

Once upon a time, there was a young woman promised to be wed to a horrible beast. 

_Will slept, and behind her lids she watched her father trudge through snow, his body nearly encompassed by the falling ice. He looked tired and nearly frozen, but still he kept pulling his legs through the thick slush._

_Will reached out and attempted to call for him, but she found that her voice was gone. The wind wailed loudly, and tugged at her hair and traced her skin, leaving goosebumps to raise over her flesh._

_Her father stopped and turned, his wide grey eyes meeting her own. Will watched as a tall figure moved toward him as fluid as water, and as silent as death. She choked on a scream, easily seeing the monster who towered over her father; Will tried to lunge for him, but found that she couldn't move._

_Her heart pounded loudly in her ears, and she watched as her father was led from the forest, leaving her alone among the trees. She wanted to sob, but the tears wouldn't fall. Hot breath fanned over her face, and her eyes locked with the deep black of a great stag's._

Will jolted awake, a gasp of fear caught in her throat. She felt dizzy, her groggy mind working to catch up with the waking world. Will's cheek was pressed against something soft, and when she blinked she realized it was dark velvet. 

A low laugh brought her out of her dazed assessment, and Will flushed brightly as the laughter came from her pillow. "I'm glad to see that you're awake. We're nearly to the village." Will pulled away from the man's shoulder, her eyes wide and looking anywhere but Hannibal's teasing smile. 

"I-I'm sorry," she hurriedly mumbled, face as red as her cloak. "I didn't mean to fall asleep, and for--um--using you as a pillow." She chewed on the inside of her cheek till she could taste blood, the pain and coppery taste grounding her and pulling her from her embarrassment, if only slightly.

The teasing grin that tilted Hannibal's lips upwards turned warm, and he looked away from her flushed face to the small houses that began to pepper the sides of the road. "You have nothing to apologize for, Miss Graham." His voice was soft, and in the back of Will's mind, she tried to remember when she had told him her last name. "Though, if I may ask...what were you dreaming of? You were moaning in your sleep." 

Will considered telling him, and wondered at the way this stranger has loosened her tongue. Instead she swallowed down the urge, and offered the doctor a tiny almost brittle smile. "You don't want to hear a girl's silly dreams, sir."

Oddly maroon eyes cut over to her, and snagged on Will's gaze. She was floored at the lack of images that normally flooded her mind, and Hannibal's lips curled slowly into a secretive smirk. "And if I do?" His voice was pitched low, intimate in a way Will had never before experienced.

She swallowed thickly, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She didn't realize how close they were; heat washed over her pleasantly, and she watched as Hannibal's eyes darted to her lips.

"Doctor Lecter!" The call brought Will out of her trance like state, and blood flooded her face as she put a respectable distance between them. She thought she had caught a look of rage cross over the man's face, but Will reasoned that it was just her imagination.

The young woman whom had called for the doctor trotted up to the wagon. Will breathed out a little laugh of surprise. "Alana?" The woman looked in Will's direction, her face morphing from confusion to that of surprised excitement.

"Will! I can't believe you're here." Hannibal had stopped the wagon and was currently helping Will from the bench. She ignored the fact that his hands may have lingered for what was considered appropriate. Alana glanced between the two of them, a dark brow raised in question. "I didn't know you knew Doctor Lecter."

Will felt as if there was a tinge of jealousy coloring Alana's question, but she didn't want to meet the woman's eyes to confirm it. She opened her mouth to explain, but was saved from having to by Hannibal's quick words. "I nearly ran over Miss Graham, and offered her a ride to the village as way of an apology."

Alana snorted, "I'm glad to see that you at least got her here in one piece!" She smiled, the apples of her cheeks glowing with a blush. Will swallowed down the surge of envy that welled in her mouth like sticky syrup. 

Hannibal inclined his head as if he were a king pardoning one of his subjects and climbed back onto the bench gracefully. "Then I will leave Miss Graham in your more than capable hands, Miss Bloom." His gaze landed on Will, his eyes tracing her face like a caress. "Until next time, Miss Graham." Will stumbled over her words, and settled for inclining her head as the doctor snapped the reins.

After a moment, Alana twined her arm with Will's; she gave her a stunning smile, and Will forgot about strange men who had he countenance of a king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not super pleased with this chapter.


	7. The Long Walk Home

Once upon a time, in the shadows of a great forest, a beast waited. 

Alana was lovely, as always, and introduced Will to anyone she didn't know. They all crowded around the woman, gossiping and laughing, ignoring Will who had merely been a momentary curiousity. 

Will felt jealousy twist under her rib cage, but she calmed herself and knew that if they paid attention to her like they were with Alana, she wouldn't know what to do. Instead she sat at the small table in the tavern, sipping slowly at the ale Alana had placed before her; she knew that her friend would come back for her soon, already trying to pull away from the small group of men whom had accosted her on her way from the bar. 

The woman sent Will an exasperated look over their shoulders, which caused her to snort into her drink. The blankets Will had brought to sell laid forgotten in her lap.

Will relaxed as well as she could in the hard backed chair, taking slow sips of the ale while the sounds of the tavern washed over her.

Alana flopped onto the chair across from Will, mouth curled in amused exasperation. "I'm sorry about that, Will." The other woman shrugged a shoulder, a hand idly playing with the soft wool blanket resting in her lap. Alana gave her a lightly contemplating look, long fingers trailing over the rim of her cup. "So," she began slowly, looking at Will from under her lashes. "How did you and Doctor Lector meet?"

Will shrugged again, ignoring the way her heart began to thud softly at the mention of the strange man. She grimaced to herself, softly berating her reaction. "Like he said," she began, voice a mumble under the raucous volume of the tavern,"He nearly ran me over and then offered me a ride to town."

Alana's mouth perked in a secretive smile. Her long fingers twisted around themselves, and Will could see the lightly pleased flush that dusted delicately over the other woman's cheeks. Jealousy scratched at the insides of Will's head, and she knew that she wasn't feeling this for someone else, it was her own. "He's very kind," Alana hummed, eyes down turned (she knew what Will could do upon seeing them. This avoidance made Will wonder what it is that Alana was attempting to hide). "He helped my family last winter when food was scarice."

Will didn't remark that it seemed like Hannibal had enough to spar in light of how he dressed, nor did she tell Alana of the strange panic she had felt even talking to the man. Instead she smiled softly, gaze fixed on the other woman's right eyebrow for lack of eye contact. "That's wonderful, Alana."

Hours passed in a blur and when Will and Alana walked out of the tavern the shadows were stretching long over the ground. Alana's expression turned worried, and she delicately bit at the corner of her rosy mouth. "I'm so sorry, Will! I didn't mean to keep you so long..."

Will quietly sighed to herself, thinking of the two hour journey back home; she patted her friend's hand and offered her a consoling smile (though she felt it was more a grimace goon by how guilty Alana's expression was). "It's fine. If I set out now, I should be back home before nightfall."

Alana opened her mouth to protest, and Will knew the woman would insist that she stay at the inn until morning. Will have her friend's hand another light pat before stepping away with another forceful smile. "You know what my father would be like if I'm not home when he is." She hoisted her basket up onto her shoulder and tightened her red cloak around her. "I'll see you later, Alana."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the laaaate update. Been busy with school; hopefully another chapter will be up sooner than this one. Thanks for reading.


	8. In the Shadow of the Wood

Once Upon a time, in the darkness of the wood, a beast plotted. 

Will tightened her cloak around herself, the wind surprisingly chill due to the time of the year. Her heart pounded loudly, nervousness causing her breath to come out in soft pants; perhaps she was wrong in not staying the night in the inn. 

She sucked in a soft breath and released it, feeling as if there were eyes tracing every step she took. The trees hung over head, their dark branches reaching out toward her like gnarled fingers. The sky was quickly beginning to darken, and she wondered why she even came to town as the blankets still weighed heavily in the basket clenched in her arms.

Will shook her head and pursed her lips as she strode on with determination. _Nothing will happen to me._ She thought with resolve, but the fear that wound tight around her heart and caused her breath to come out in short pants had her thinking otherwise.

The sun was quickly beginning to dip under the line of trees, the light causing sharp lines of shadow to criss-cross over the road. Will stared ahead, flinching every time a soft crack from the woods echoed out. "I'm being ridiculous." She sighed, tightening her hands round the handles of her basket. She huddled more into her red cloak when a gust of wind caused dead leaves to dance over the ground. The wind was like small razors that dug into the fabric of her cloak and dress, tracing over her skin as if they were nails. Will swallowed thickly, her pace becoming faster as the round moon began to raise slowly over head.

"It's not like...it's not like the Forest King will want to eat me." She tried to laugh at her fear and didn't pull her attention to the dark line of trees when there was a particularly loud _snap_. "I mean, I wouldn't even be that filling." She smiled thinly while the food from the tavern flipped in her stomach.

It was probably true that she didn't have anything to worry about; the Forest King was known to eat people, though how he selected his prey was beyond anyone. It was always a good idea just to stay indoors when the moon was full...though some of his victims had been found stowed away in their homes the next day.

Another loud snap caused Will's footsteps to falter; she turned slowly, the feeling that someone or some _thing_ was just behind her. A silent scream caused her mouth to open in a square of fear as her eyes fell upon a great, black stag. The beast's eyes were far too intelligent for an animal, and the sharp void-black feathers that made up its pelt seemed to suck the remaining light from the space around it. Its huge horns stood proudly up to the sky and were as sharp as any hunting knife Will's father owned.

They stared at one another while Will's mind tried to catch up with what she was seeing. There were merely rumors that any Raven-Stags had survived the Great Winter, and that the only one that _did_ survive it followed the Forest King. Will's heart pounded against her breastbone almost painfully, and when the Stag lowered its head ( _To charge?_ Will thought frantically), she turned and began to flee.

She had no idea how long she ran, nor did she turn to look to see if the beast was chasing after her. The red of her cloak was like a flame of a candle as she ran down the pathway, the basket of blankets dropped in the frantic attempt to _get away_. The smell of the river put something of a balm on her terrified thoughts, and when the sound of her dogs howling in the distance met her ears, Will truly felt that she was safe.

She slammed against the heavy wooden door that was carved with protective runes and spells (courtesy of her long dead mother). The knob turned easily in her hands, and she fell through the doorway with a relieved sob. The smell of a warm fire greeted her nose, and for a confused moment, Will looked up expecting to see her father.

Instead, there was a man sitting calmly inside her home.

Her dogs sat around the man's feet, their snouts stained red and their tongues lolling lazily out of their mouths. The stink of something freshly killed clawed its way up Will's nose, and her stomach rolled in agitation. She swallowed thickly, her hand gripping the door knob tight enough that her knuckles were beginning to turn white. "W-who are you?" She whispered. A heavy shadow was cast over the man's face, but maroon eyes glinted from the dark.

"Dear Wilhelmina, have you forgotten me already?" Her skin crawled at the soft question. His voice was familiar at the same time it was completely foreign. It reminded her of the wind moaning through the bare trees during the winter months.

Her tongue flickered out to set her lips. "Have we met before?" She winced at how strained her voice sounded, but the constant warnings her father had given her about strangers, especially strange men, rang like bells in her head. The man sighed long and soft, standing so that the shadow wasn't cast over his face. Will released a silent gasp and took a step back. "Doctor Lecter?"

The man's smile was brittle; his strange eyes scanned over her rather hungrily, causing Will's heart to thud loud enough hat she was sure he could hear it. "I see you _do_ remember me." She took another step back but ran into something.

Turning, a yelp of fear tumbled from her mouth when she came face to face with the Raven Stag. It snorted loudly, its hot breath fanning over her face and smelling like death. Doctor Lecter hissed something at the beast in another language, causing in to step back with another snort. Will stared at the Stag for a moment before turning to give the man scrutinizing glare. "You...what _are_ you?" In her gut, though, she _knew_. 

The man smiled again, but this time it began to stretch and contort over his face. Pale skin began to rip, falling to the ground with wet plops that the dogs who were still lying around his feet eagerly gobbled up. Will felt sick as she watched the man's body stretch taller and taller, black horns spiraling up to scrape against her home's ceiling. His clothes fell away with soft ripping noises and the barest whisper of leaves upon wood; when Will chanced a glance at them, she could see that that's all they had been in the first place.

She met his eyes which were still the odd maroon hue that glinted like rubies in the firelight. The scream was caught in her throat, but the beast didn't move any closer; instead he gazed upon her shaking form, a mixture of hunger and longing swirling over his dark face like a cloud of smoke. "Are you here to kill me?" Will whispered, thoughts then going to her father who was busy somewhere in the woods. _Safe._

The forest king smiled again, his teeth like needles that causes Will's skin to crawl. He dipped his head in a small bow, and she heard the Raven Stag snort softly behind her. "My dear, if I had wanted you dead, I would have killed you long ago."

She wondered how long he had been watching her for. A flush of shame came to her cheeks, but she stood her ground when he lifted a hand and allowed his bony fingers to wrap around a singular curl of hair. "No," he continued, "I am merely here to recieve my prize." 

Will resisted the urge to close her eyes, and instead met the king's with a defiant glare. "What have you done with my father?"

A sour expression crossed over the beast's face before if smoothed out. His hand moved from her hair to trail down her cheek. "He is lost in the wood, gone forever from this place." The King flickered his gaze over Will's face; he smiled again, the action creaking softly like dead tree limbs cracking under foot. "He isn't your concern any longer, dear Wilhelmina."

Will unstuck her tongue from the roof of her mouth. "I-I'm...your _prize_?" She felt sick to her stomach, and her hands shook violently.

"Yes," the King breathed, claws dragging languidly over her skin. "Given to me by your father in exchange for food and comfort."

Will wrenched herself out of his grasp, a soft whimper tumbling from her mouth when his claws dug into her skin. "I...I won't go with you." He frowned, the maroon of his eyes flashing a dangerous blood red. Will swallowed and forced herself to meet his gaze, her hands tightening to fists at her side. "I won't go with you, unless you let my father go."

Hannibal stared down at the girl; a low laugh tumbled from his thin gash of a mouth and when she blinked he was once more the handsome man she had met earlier that day. He took a step closer to her which she mirrored with one back until she was pressed against the wall. He didn't break his stare, the loose smile twisting over his mouth. "Fine." He hummed, "I'll allow this...but _you_ will retrieve your father from my wood...but if you fail to set him free..." The smile turned sharp, his needle like teeth glinted dangerously in the firelight. "You both will be mine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this took so long to come out; I've been busy with school, work, and Star Wars.


	9. The Wood (Part I)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry for how long this has taken to come out.

Once upon a time once upon atimeonceupon--

Will woke up with the taste of blood in her mouth. A painful buzzing filled her ears, and when she rolled over to curl into a ball, she realized that she was on the ground.  
Her eyes fluttered open only to squint a the light filtered in through the window. The dogs were barking like mad and there was a man standing in the open door.

Will sat up with a jolt, a scream of fear caught in her throat even when she could see that it wasn't...it wasn't..."Are you Wilhelmina Graham?" The voice was sharp and commanding, causing Will to sit up a little straighter even though that caused her head to throb.

She nodded and then whistled once to call the dogs away from the door. They crowded around her, their eyes on the man in suspicion. Will stood on shaky legs, her gaze never once leaving the man though he made no effort to move.

He looked uncomfortable though he was able to smooth his expression into an inquisitive blankness;stocky and with dark skin, Will noted the fine clothes stretched over the broad width of his shoulders. 

She figeted and righted her ratty skirts; the man cleared his throat and seemed to realize that she was a young woman who was alone. "I'm sorry, I should introduce myself: my name is Jack Crawford, I'm a part of the King's guard. I'm here to investigate a series of murders that have been happening in this area."

Will's eyes flickered up to the man, her mouth twisting slightly. "Taken you a while to get here, huh?" She cleared her throat, "Um, please come in."

()()

Her hands shook as she poured the man, Jack, a cup of coffee. His dark eyes watched her closely, and for some reason guilt bloomed in her gut. 

Will sat with a graceless thud, her gaze resting just below his right eyebrow while she folded her hands on the table in front of her. "Where's your father, Miss Graham?"

There was an urgency clawing at the back of her mind, and the night from before began to seep into her memory. Will swallowed thickly, remembering corpse cool hands lovingly stroking her cheek. "Out in the woods...he's uh, working."

Jack still hadn't touched his coffee, and instead studied her closely. "Does he often leave?" Will chanced a look into his eyes, and felt her posture begin to reflect his; his suspicion laid over her like a wet blanket, and her fingers tightened around one another.

"He provides for us." Will needed to get this man out of her house so she could rescue her father...Jack's eyes narrowed only slightly, but he attempted to place a soothing smile on his lips. To Will, it looked as fake as a clown's.

"Miss Graham--"

"Will."

His eyebrows furrowed at being interrupted, and his smile twitched at the corner. "Ah, yes...Will. In the village, I was told that you have...a talent for reading people." Dark eyes flitted up to look at her, making Will's own blue gaze drop away to study the table. 

"I don't...I just have a good imagination." She swallowed thickly and let out a short huff of breath. "Please, Mr. Crawford, I have...chores that I must get to that you're keeping me from." The lie slipped easily off her tongue. 

Jack Crawford didn't look pleased at the brush off, but he must have realized that if he stayed any longer (no matter how far from the village she was) it would be deemed inappropriate. He let out a sigh and stood, large hands spread out for a moment over the scarred table top as he leveled her with a heavy look. 

Will knew that by not meeting his eyes, she forced suspicion on herself; the man's mouth turned down at the corners for a moment before he grabbed his hat and walked smoothly toward the door. "I could use that imagination, Miss Graham." He tilted his head in a small bow. "I'll be staying in the village inn if you'd like to be of any help."

The door closed and for a moment, Will wondered if it would be at all possible for the king's men to track down the beast and slay him. _It would save me the trouble._ She thought with a humorless snort. 

Her eyes moved of their own accord to the window, gaze tracing the dark line of trees even though it was well past noon. Will's teeth tore at her lip, drawing blood while she weighed her options. 

The king's man was probably too far away now. 

Before she could talk herself out of it, Will grabbed her red cloak and began stuffing a bag full of supplies. The dogs danced around her feet, whining in confusion as they watched her grab a large hunting knife from her father's things. 

Will closed her eyes, the knife heavy in her hand. She was going to find her father and save him. 

She was going to kill the forest King.


End file.
